


Father's Day

by LoadedRevolver



Category: Professional Wrestling, WWE
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 16:58:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4187643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoadedRevolver/pseuds/LoadedRevolver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Extreme Jeribrose fluff. Inspired by the whole concept of Father's Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Father's Day

It had been a long, long day.

The day had started like any other; Dean had woken up, complaining about how it felt like their baby was playing soccer with his bladder, and then complained about the sciatica that had almost rendered him bed bound. Chris would help Dean up onto his feet, and steer him in the general direction of the bathroom. Then they’d bicker about whether or not Dean needed any help; Chris knew how uncomfortable Dean was at this late stage of his pregnancy, and didn’t want Dean to hurt himself. Dean would yell through the firmly locked door that he was a big boy, he could take a shower, have a shave and go for a piss all by his very own self. That was Chris’ cue to go downstairs and make breakfast; bacon and eggs for himself, and a bowl of fruit salad with yogurt for Dean. It’d had been the only thing Dean had managed to keep down when he’d had morning, noon and night sickness, and so he’d decided to stick to that for the rest of his pregnancy.

But this morning was different. Chris had only just gotten downstairs and started the coffee machine when he heard Dean yelling.

“CHRIS!! YOU NEED TO COME BACK UP, BABE……”

He’d taken the stairs two at a time, and rattled the still locked bathroom door. 

“Dean? You okay in there? Open the door……”

Dean’s voice sounded scared, panicked even. “I…..I can’t move….hurts……” 

_Oh, fuck it_ , thought Chris. _How expensive can a new door be?_ “You need to move away from the door, Dean. Can you at least manage that?” There were shuffling sounds, along with small grunts of pain from the other side of the door, along with an occasional _Oh, fuck_. 

“Okay…...I’m over by the bath. What are you……” Dean didn’t have time to even finish his sentence before Chris had kicked the door open, splinters of wood flying as it bounced off of the wall. “JESUS! Chris, I’m alright, I didn’t fall! I’m just…..I think……” Chris helped Dean to his feet, noting that he’d winced and taken a sharp breath in as he stood. “I think the baby’s coming.”

“What? NOW?!?”

“No, you fucking fruit loop. I just think my labour’s starting. And Dr. Lee said that it could take hours before we need to get to the hospital, since this is our first. Remember when Seth went into labour? They sent him home three times before Aiden was born. I am screwed if I’m doing that. OW…..” Chris hadn’t relinquished his hold on Dean’s waist as he guided him slowly down the stairs and into the kitchen, only letting go when Dean sat down gingerly at the table. The next few moments passed in relative silence as Chris made Dean’s breakfast, punctured only by a soft gasp, or slow steady breaths as Dean got through a contraction. Chris kept a close eye on the time and length, making notes to take into the hospital with them when the time came.

“Did you you call Dr.Lee? She needs to know if I’ve….ooohhh...if I’ve started labour.”

“I’ll call her after this one.”

“Oof…..okay. How long was that one?”

“About thirty seconds long, and around ten minutes in between.” 

They’d migrated to the baby’s nursery, decorated in warm neutral tones and splashes of light green and lemon. While Chris didn’t really mind finding out what sex the baby was, Dean had been adamant about not finding out. He reasoned that the child would be loved, no matter what. And for once, he wanted to be surprised. He’d made a beeline for the antique rocking chair, and found that the simple back and forth motion helped with the pain. As Chris spoke to their doctor on the phone, Dean picked up the threadbare teddy that he’d placed on a nearby shelf. It had been his, once upon a time, his only friend when he’d been a scared little boy who felt all alone in the world. Despite the fact that it had looked like a gust of wind would blow it to dust, Chris had found somewhere that cleansed it of the grime and scent of long gone cigarette smoke. They both took turns in walking around the house with the bear stuck down their shirts, making sure that their child would be surrounded by familiar scents. Dean held the bear close, his hand gently rubbing back and forth across his tightening bump. His breath came for a moment in a sharp inhale and exhale, before he remembered his exercises; deep breath in through the nose, long slow breath out through the mouth. It was almost hypnotic, to the point where Dean’s eyes slid closed and he forgot the time, concentrating on just breathing and rocking.

“You okay? You’ve been zoned out for the past five minutes.” asked Chris. He’d taken Dean’s hospital bag down from the top of the tallboy, and was looking through it to make sure nothing had been forgotten. On top of the usual supplies was a delicately crocheted baby blanket in an almost faded tone of yellow. Chris’s father, Ted, had taken it down from his attic when Dean had just gone seven months pregnant and given it to them. 

_“This was the blanket your mom and I took you home from the hospital in. She always wanted you to have it when you eventually had kids of your own, Chris. I figure now’s as good a time as any to pass it on to you.”_

_Chris swallowed back the tears, and squeezed Dean’s hand._

Dean groaned as Chris zipped the large holdall closed, and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the arm of the rocking chair. 

“Ohshitshitshit…..fuuuckthishurts….”

Pain zipped across his belly, like an iron band being pulled tightly around him before shooting down into the tops of his thighs. His eyes closed as the contraction slowly reached a peak before subsiding and making him gasp in relief.

Chris just cocked an eyebrow. “Dr.Lee said you should come in when your contractions were lasting about forty five seconds to a minute long, and at least seven minutes in between. And that one was exactly forty five seconds long.”

“I can handle this.” replied Dean, although Chris didn’t exactly believe him. “If there’s less than seven minutes until the next one, then we’ll go to the hospital.” It was as they made their way back downstairs, five and a half minutes later, that Dean was hit by another contraction. It came suddenly, and with enough strength that it forced tears to Dean’s eyes.

“Okay. I need drugs. In large quantities.” he gasped out, holding Chris’s hand and gripping to the point of pain.

 

The next few hours were a blur. 

Dean had been put in a wheelchair almost as soon as he’d arrived, despite his yells of “MY LEGS AIN’T BROKE, Y’KNOW!”. As he was taken up to the delivery suites, it was left to Chris to fill in all the paperwork, which took far longer than he would have liked it to. By the time he was finished, Dean was being prepped for his caesarean section, and asking for his husband. 

Once Dean’s epidural had kicked in, Chris was finally allowed into the operating theater to sit beside Dean. Dean was shaking slightly, a combination of fear and the drugs beginning to take hold. Chris held Dean’s hand, leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his forehead.

“It’ll be okay, I promise. It’ll all be over and we’ll have Jellybean with us, and we’ll wonder what it was like before they arrived.”

Dean smiled, and squeezed Chris’s hand. 

“Okay, Dean…...you’re good to go here.” said Dr.Lee. “You’ll feel some pressure, and then some pushing and pulling. It won’t hurt, but it’s going to feel uncomfortable, okay?” Dean had lost the power of speech, and just about managed to whisper a nervous “Okay…..” in reply.

 

And now, as the hospital room was filled with a warm glow in the late hours of Father’s Day, with an exhausted Dean sleeping fitfully in the bed beside him, Chris looked down at the little bundle in his arms. Dean hadn’t had a textbook pregnancy, he battled through four months of nausea, and the last two months had seen him barely able to walk due to sciatica, but little Victoria Loretta Ambrose was so very, very worth it.


End file.
